This Sunday morning I had to put my Daniel Fast on a pause. Every two weeks, my dad and I visit granny. Granny is 93, survived the bombing of Rotterdam in WW2 and had to walk 105 kilometers every week to get food for her family to eat. Her husband, my granddad, died 9 years ago and now she lives all by herself in this appartment for elderly. This year she will turn 94 and we all believe that she might even become a 100 years old. My granny is one tough cookie and I admire her for it.
Getting older of course also has its share of troubles with it. My granny is suffering from dementia. Every time I set foot into her small apartment, she will look at me as if she has never seen me before. It doesn’t quite help that I have quite a darker skintone, in comparison to her and her son [my father]. I will always have to grab a picture frame from her bookshelf and show her the picture of when I was small. I will always have to reintroduce myself. But it’s ok, really.
Once she recognizes me, she invites me to sit down and orders her son to make us some coffee. We always have a cup of coffee and a Dutch moist cookie when we come to visit granny. My dad will rush into the kitchen like a brave 70-year-old child while granny tells me all about the seniors club that she goes to every 4 days of the week. She will tell stories about how my dad used to be a smarty pants when he was a kid. She will tell me my hair looks nice and how her son always makes the coffee just right. Then my dad will come back from the kitchyen with freshly made coffee and that nice moist Dutch cookie. She will thank my dad for the coffee and as she turns to take the cup in her shaky hands, she will look at me and ask me “Which child of mine are you?”
After visiting granny, my dad dropped me off at the trainstation in my hometown so I could travel to my small church in Amsterdam. This Sunday it was my turn to be the “worship leader”. I had informed the music team that I might not be there in time, because I was first going to see granny. But by the time I entered the church, I was still one of the first people there and it was still quite early too.
The worship service went pretty good. There was a pastor from Indonesia who gave us teachings from the bible. He gave a new perspective to the Holy Trinity theory. One I might describe more detailed some other time. I had material to think about anyway.
After the service, the Indonesian dinner was already ready to consume and the church people sat and ate with one another. As soon as I left granny, I recontinued with the Daniel Fast in the afternoon. Which meant that while the rest of the church had tasty babi ketjap for dinner, I only ate cucumbers and carrots. And drank water. I wanted to sit somewhere quiet and enjoy my raw veggies but failed. A few church bandmates spotted me chewing my cucumbers away and asked me what I was doing.
When one is fasting, one shouldn’t really boast about it or whatever. It is a personal thing. The fact that I write it down in here is… Well… Yeah, it is just to document it for myself really and if others who happen to like reading my process then fine. But to actually go and say to everyone “oh look at me I’m fasting” that’s not what my intention is at all.
So I sat there chewing my cucumbers while the church bandmates kept asking why I was hiding in the corner with a bag of cucumbers I just smiled and said nothing. Which basically made it a lot weirder. So eventually I just told them I am doing the Daniel Fast and that with Easter I will be eating normally again. They just frowned and went their own way. I guess they still thought it was weird. Whatever, it’s not like I am doing it for them.
After dinner there was a small birthday party of one of the youngest church members. Unfortunately the boy who had turned 5 earlier that week was sick. Eventually the decided to just bring the poor kid home that evening and ended the party. We also practised for Easter with the choir. And after that, a friend from church offered me, my sibling and my mom a ride home. We were home a lot earlier than usual that Sunday. Which was nice for a change.
It was a nice full Sunday. That’s for sure.
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